In the heart of Sao Paulo, an area the size of London's Soho stands as a horrific symbol of Brazil's war on drugs more than 30 years ago.
In Cracklandia, which literally means “crackland” in Portuguese, hundreds of people gather to smoke cocaine in the streets.
It is one of the world's largest and most violent drug zones – despite numerous attempts to dismantle it and rehabilitate its population.
By day, the streets are lined with zombie-like figures wrapped in blankets.
Their faces bear the marks of years of addiction.
Some of them are as young as 13 years old.
With no shelter, running water or sanitation, many search for recyclable materials, hoping to collect enough for their next hit.
Garbage piles up, and the stench of sweat and garbage lingers in the air in what has become known as the Brazilian version of American Skid Row.
Nearby, police patrol the streets or stand and watch — not to stop drug use, but to prevent thefts and violence.
The area is surrounded by scenes of deprivation, and has survived several government attempts to dismantle it.
According to a recent report, “mini cracklands” have appeared in other parts of the city.
In Cracolandia, a single hit can cost as little as a few cents.
It makes it seriously accessible to people from all walks of life.
From gangsters to former lawyers or doctors, they get caught up in the drug swamp, turning into “walking corpses,” as the police like to describe them.
Office workers and students from nearby colleges rush in, just meters away in a drug-fueled parallel world.
Transgender, homeless, and crack addict, 26-year-old Philippa Drummont has been living on the streets of Cracklandia for years.
“It's a terrible life,” she told The Guardian in 2017.
“You don't eat, you don't sleep, and any money you can make is wasted.”
Cracolândia is not hidden in a forgotten corner of São Paulo.
It is located next to Luz Station, the city's busiest train station, and close to private colleges, entertainment centers and concert halls.
Even South America's largest newspaper, Folha de São Paulo, has its offices a few blocks away.
It's a terrible life. You don't eat. You don't sleep. Any money you can make goes to crack
Philippa Drumont
This stark decade makes Caracolandia unique – and a constant source of embarrassment for São Paulo's mayors.
In 2014, Prince Harry visited Cracklandia to support the Opens Arms project – which aims to reduce crime and drug use in the deprived area.
In the photo below, he is seen speaking to residents.
Each new administration in São Paulo pledges to “reform” the area and help the population.
Joao Doria, the city's mayor from 2017 to 2018 and a former businessman, declared war on Cracklandia shortly after taking office.
In May of that year, he sent 900 police officers and security personnel to clear the streets, using rubber bullets and stun grenades to disperse the crowd.
“The police showed up throwing bombs at everyone,” Drummont said.
She remembers that she and others dispersed, taking refuge in nearby gas stations or moving to shelters, while the authorities arrested dozens of small merchants and confiscated weapons and drugs.
Then Dorea declared triumphantly: “The crackland is gone and will not come back.”
But, like every mayor before him, Doria underestimated the “immortality” of Cracklandia.
Within months, a “fluxo” – the local term for a user cluster – had been reconfigured just meters away.
Francisco Inácio Bastos, who led the last national crack survey in Brazil, told The Guardian: “What we see is a change in the project of each administration, without any continuity.
“It's all political. We need a minimum consensus at the national level – no [just from the] Right or left [wing]But based on worldwide scientific arguments.
“Without this [Cracolândia] “It will continue as it is.”
Persistent problem
Cracklandia's resilience is linked to Brazil's broader struggles against drug addiction, poverty, and inequality.
The country has the largest number of crack users in the world — an estimated 370,000 in major urban centers, according to national survey figures.
São Paulo's location at the heart of the Brazilian economy and its proximity to cocaine-producing countries such as Bolivia, Colombia and Peru make it a center for drug trafficking, controlled by powerful gangs.
Efforts to dismantle Cracolândia are stuck in a tragic cycle.
Harsh police raids temporarily disperse users, but the “influx” gathers again nearby.
Programs like the 2014 Open Arms program — which provided shelter and money to addicts in exchange for small tasks — faced criticism and were eventually dismantled.
On the other hand, new “mini-craklandias” have emerged on the outskirts of São Paulo, fragmenting the problem even further without solving it at all.